And They Were Horses
by Ponygal54
Summary: ***AU/MATURE CONTENT/POSSIBLE SLASH*** Mirkwood has always been shrouded by mystery, dark woods with many dangers that have deterred even the most adventurous of Men. At least until Aragorn gets a little too nosy for his own good and discovers a shocking truth about the woods. ***AU/MATURE CONTENT/POSSIBLE SLASH***
1. The Youngster

_**And They Were Horses**_

_Summary:_ Mirkwood has always been shrouded by mystery, dark woods with many dangers that have deterred even the most adventurous of Men. At least until Aragorn gets a little too nosy for his own good and discovers a shocking truth about the woods...

_Disclaimer:_ I don't own LOTR or anything related to it, sadly.

_**A/N: This is important! Read this**** first!**_ So my summary really doesn't explain what's going to happen, but I'll give you all fair warning...it's going to be for mature eyes only! No it's not going to be filthy, smutty, gag me with a wooden spoon, etc. But it is dealing with a mature theme and mature ideas that may not appeal to some of you more sensative sorts. There may be "slash" involved as well, so do take that into consideration. Not hardcore, just light. It may not even happen. But I'm giving you this warning now so you know what's coming, but for this moment it's pretty safe and a generic start! So please do enjoy.(Oh...and if you haven't figured this out...this is going to be an AU since I'm tweaking a great deal of details! :D)

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The rain was relentless as it pelted down on the hoods of the cloaked party that travelled through the dark woods. Night had fallen and brought with it a deathly chill. Even so, most of the party was warm and more or less dry. All except a young man with shaggy, dark, hair who could only be described as a captive. He had no cloak to ward off the rain or chill and was forced along by the vicious tug of the lead around his neck. The skin was raw from the chafing of the rope; it burned even though numbed by the cold. He was soaked to the bone, shaking obviously and panting hard from his struggles. His hands were bound behind him, from wrist to elbow to keep him well secured. A drenched blindfold covering his eyes caused him to stagger and stumble over every rough patch. He was gagged; a large leather ball forced under his tongue and tied in place with another lengthy strip of cloth wrapped several times around his face. He could neither protest nor plead. Grunting as he staggered once more at a sharp yank and hit his knees, nostrils flared with pain and anger as he was dragged back up and struck on the thighs to goad him on.

The young man had been stripped of his weapons, his gear, and his horse. All left where he'd been ambushed at his camp while he rested. His attackers had caught him as easily as a spring chicken and trussed him before he could put up much fight. Even so he'd been battered in the capture. His thin, dark, tunic was in disarray, the draw strings hanging open and revealing some scratches over his chest from being dragged into trees and over ground. His boots had been stripped away, leaving him to tread through the woods with bare feet; which now bled and burned from their abuse. His feet were soft and supple and unused to being unprotected. His pants were tattered at the knees and showed the bleeding wounds that were aggravated with every fall. His fingers burned and ached from the cold and his shoulders felt like they were on fire from their strained position. He knew not who his attackers were…they had not spoken and he had seen nothing before they blinded him.

They seemed to know the forests well…which was unsettling to this young man. He, and everyone else of Middle Earth, was under the impression that Mirkwood was uninhabited. But they had led him deeper into the woods with confidence and knowledge. They did not ride horses…but they rode something. He could not tell at first, too enraged by his capture. But soon he could smell wet fur and hear faint snorts. The animals walked much softer then horses. Another thing that stunned him…there was said to be no game, yet he was certain that they rode some sort of domesticated deer. He was even more certain when he staggered into warm, furry, bodies that surrounded him. He could only guess, since he could not see…perhaps they were horses…only small and quiet. But who were these that held him captive now?

He pulled back against the lead with a choked growl, feeling the sting of the rope and of the switch that was laid to the back of his thighs every time he protested, fell, or walked too slowly. It forced him on, even though he was exhausted and freezing…the walking just barely keeping him warm enough to function at all. It had been hours…hours of relentless darkness and staggering…hours of silence…silence only broken by his own furious outbursts and the patter of rain. The young man staggered once more and bit back a cry as his abused knees once more hit the ground. Not standing and expecting to feel the bite of the switch and the tug of the rope. But it never came…instead there was a soft rustle of his captures moving…dismounting. He noticed other changes…the rain seemed to sound less confined. Were they in a clearing? No…not quite that open…but the water no longer hit trees and brush. The animals moved away, following some unheard command, but the tension remained on his lead as if to remind him they were still there. The young man strained for every noise…every smell. There was open ground here…and wet rock. There were others moving not too far off.

A camp? A village?

He wasn't sure…and his captures seemed keen on leaving it that way, tapping his bicep with the switch to prompt him up. He refused and was rewarded with a harsher blow to the same place, gaining his feet and standing there shaking. He was tired…cold…frustrated…and slightly afraid. Still no one spoke; he was merely guided ahead with a firm pull on the lead and made to stagger on. The sounds of beings moving around became louder and the footing became solid…packed earth and cobbles? His feet still stung and throbbed with every step. Rather suddenly the rain stopped…or at least stopped falling on him. He was surrounded by warmth and the smell of dry hay. Stalls? But he heard no horses…nor the creatures from before. But there was something in the stalls, as he was made to pass by he could hear shifting…and perhaps more distressingly…chains.

The warmth of the building was short lived as he was dragged outside once more, this time feeling the squish of mud. It was faintly soothing, but the rain was not. It felt even colder and fell even harder. He heard a gate swinging gently open ahead, now very frustrated with being unable to see. He balked, refusing to go a step further. Bracing against the pull of the rope and the sting of the switch. It was in vain. He was forced, step by step, to whatever his destination was. It wasn't far, and he was left standing where he was, the beings leaving him suddenly after a few moments of fiddling with something. So he was just being left to stand around? He stayed still several moments before taking a few steps back, growling with frustration at feeling the pull on the lead…he was tied to something solid…exposed in the rain. Pulling against it and struggling for several long minutes before he gave up. He could find no weakness in his bonds…no method to escape…and his strength was all but gone. Moving ahead to stand on shaking legs and try to get slack to sink to his knees. At least they allowed him one small comfort, resting his head against the hefty post and finding another distressing clue. The wood was well worn…it was scratched…and it was bitten. But no animal made marks like those…they were marks of Men.

Whoever had captured him clearly had done so to many before him…but the reasons why were still unclear. Reluctantly, and miserably, he stayed as he was on his knees and rested. Pleading the rain to stop and the sun to hurry up, he'd get no sleep this night…

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See? Pretty basic right? ;) Don't worry I get more devious as I get going, I just like to snag y'all to make you wonder! Please Reveiw! Thank you!


	2. Morning Cometh

**_A/N:_**OKAY GUYS this is when things start getting a bit more...graphic. NO, there's nothing out of line. But there is imagery that is NOT for young people or people who take offense to some imagery! SO you've been warned. It's not THAT bad, I am trying to keep things tasteful and yet...trying to bring the story to life. So I'm telling you that this will be sensitive material...so read on at your own risk!

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Morning, it was morning at last. He hadn't slept at all. Most of the night had been spent shivering against the hefty post he was tethered to, trying to find a meek amount of shelter from the unrelenting rain. His sleepless night only added to his agonies, a list of which was quite large at the current moment. His whole body was stiff, he wasn't sure he could move if he wanted to. He was cold, soaked, and kneeling in a pool of muddy water. His arms were numb, his jaw burned, and his neck still chafed. But he could tell it was morning…there was a chorus of birds and other animals that greeted the sun. Thankfully, the rain had stopped. He wasn't sure he would have lasted much longer if the rain continued for another day.

His thoughts of his agony were broken when he heard soft footfalls and the swinging gate. His captors approached…he tensed, but nothing happened. They just seemed to gather around him, as if examining him. He growled low in his throat and was rewarded with a sharp strike with a switch from his unknown foe. The blow stoked his fury for a moment, driving him to his feet to try and lunge at the being that hit him. Forgetting the shortness of the lead and ending up nearly strangling himself as he strained against the rough rope for several long moments. Cursing, or trying to, around the gag before he relented and stood on shaking legs with his head lowered. He was exhausted and hurting…what he wouldn't give for a warm bed…a warm meal…just warmth!

Those gathered around him said or did nothing until after he'd finished his fit. He felt hands on him, gripping his arms and his hair before the backs of his knees were roughly kicked and he was forced down. The hands fisted in his hair pulled his head back painfully, but he had little energy to put up a fight. The rope around his neck, which had chafed to the point of bleeding he was certain, was at last cut away. He would have sighed with relief…were it not for the fact he was still captive to beings he had yet to see or hear speak. A gentle hand touched the raw skin of his neck, making him flinch and growl, as if to examine the damage done. The touch was brief at least.

The hands in his hair shifted and dug around to find the knot of the blindfold, it was soaked and nearly impossible to untie…so it was pulled off instead, taking some hair with it. The young man winced and clamped his eyes shut at the blinding brightness of the dim morning light. He felt the hand digging for the knot that held the gag in place, hoping they didn't decide to pull it off as well and pull out more of his hair. While the hands fidgeted with the soaked knot, he struggled to open sore eyes. Even though it had only been a short while he'd been blinded, his eyes ached from the light. Just as the knot began to loosen, the young man was finally able to see his captors.

Grey eyes widened with shock as he stared up into the face of an elf…a female elf! Her blue eyes were hard, her hair was long and blonde. He'd never seen an elf quite like her before…certainly not a she-elf with such a deadly expression. A dominant expression. Clothed in a soft blue-green dress that nearly matched her blue eyes, an intricate leather belt fastened around her shapely hips to complete her strangely feminine, yet fearsome, look. His gaze quickly shifted to discover they were all she-elves! All with varying degrees of blonde hair and all very clearly aggressive. His observations were cut short as the gag was finally removed, the cloth unwound and the ball retrieved from his aching jaw. The she-elf with blue eyes glared down at him, putting her hands on her hips as if irritated. Without so much as a warning, her pale, lithe, hand shot out and connected with his cheek with a resounding snap! The force was enough to send the young man's head to the side with a sharp cry. More outraged at being struck then from the pain, though it was still a heavy blow.

He turned burning eyes on her, tensed and barely contained by those that restrained him on his knees. Teeth gnashing as he tried to lunge for her. Never before had he wished harm upon a female of any kind, but he was at his wits end with them given the fact that they were clearly the ones who captured him! His mouth was dry and tongue was sore, but his voice rose to his lips with his fury. "Why have you taken me? Let me go!" His voice was hoarse and grated in the back of his throat, but the malice was unmistakable as he spoke those words in the King's Tongue.

The she-elf hit him once more, harder with the back of her hand this time; gripping his lower jaw in her terrifyingly powerful, yet slender, fingers. He could hardly move with the hands fisted in his hair, he could not move at all with her grip on his chin. She leaned over to glare into his grey eyes. Hatred and domination ruled in her azure gaze, a thin, unpleasant, smile touching her lips. The smile promised nothing but pain for the young man. She said nothing, letting his face go with a snort and motioning something to the others that held him. Speaking in a language that sounded elvish to him, but it was no tongue he'd heard before.

They gave him no chance to question it, or demand answers, before he was dragged to his feet and jostled roughly from the corralled area that he had been kept it all night. Dragging him back into the stables he'd passed through the night before without letting him look at the surroundings very long. He could see the walls of place though...and they were immense. He staggered into the stables, once more greeted by the smells of clean hay and the clinking of chains. Now that he was able to see...he wished he was not able. It appeared as any other stable, with stalls to keep horses, only instead of horses...there were men. Elves and Men. Chained within the confines of the stalls. Some able to move more freely, while others could barely turn their heads. He could only catch a fleeting glance as he was shoved along, but it was enough to make him shudder.

Who were these elves that held him? That held those men? He was unable to ask or think on it long as he was dragged down the length of the stable to where no stall was placed. Merely a bare wall with chains running in a nauseating series of routes along the walls, roof, and floor. The she-elves that held him forced him down to his knees once more. One kept a hand fisted in his hair while the other pulled a sleek elven blade from the sheath under her scarlet dress, a dress which she had to lift to reveal the scabbard strapped to her thigh. He legs with long and smooth and pale, what he could see which was not covered by her knee-height leather boots that was. He couldn't help but stare, for he was young and had yet to see much of the female form.

His stare did not go unnoticed, the she-elf chuckled and sneered in an almost playful manner. She moved gracefully, placing her foot between his widely spread knees and pressing her warm leg to his chest...his face suddenly pressed to her supple inner thigh just as she brought the tip of her blade under his chin. "You want to taste, man?" Her voice was smooth and yet, very dangerous.

The last thing he'd expected was to be so near a woman, it was overwhelming and his rage was quickly joined by confused lust. He could not deny the want to taste the smooth thigh that pressed to his face, nor the want to explore more of the body that was so very near him...but he had to. His will was still quite intact, so he glared up into her emerald eyes. "Only in hopes of gagging on your foul taste." He expected retribution for his retort...and he didn't have long to wait.

The she-elf gave a rather undignified squeal of outrage, landing an unfortunate blow to his very sensitive groin with the foot she'd placed there. It drove the wind from his lungs and he collapsed, face first, onto the cold stone floor. His misery was complete when he felt a knee on the back of his neck, practically choking him as she bore her weight down on him. He wished she would...but she eased off just enough to let him breath as she cut his hands free. The freedom was short lived, since hands grasped his wrists and twisted his arms painfully to hold him in place while one of the chains was retrieved. He felt the cool metal snap tight over his wrist and then the other, soon followed by his ankles. Only then was he released. He was still hurting from the blow to his tender parts, so he wisely stayed on the ground and wondered at the seemingly excessive amount of chain...he could still move freely.

It was several long minutes before he moved, his body reminding him how much he ached...old and new pains mingling in a heady concoction of misery. But the young man did not let his aches deter him from getting to his hands and knees, then slowly to his feet, examining the lengthy chains with wonder. There were so many other chains that seemed to run along the walls, through loops, and around corners he didn't know exactly where the ones attached to his person ended or led to. He wasn't sure he wanted to know. It seemed he'd been left alone for the time being...which further perplexed and worried him. He wanted answers...but none would be forth coming from the she-elves he suspected.

He was about to call out and see if one of the men in the stalls would reply when the pair of she-elves returned carrying two pails of water each. They had also changed attire, no longer in long fine dresses, instead in short white gowns that barely went to their thighs. They were strapless and form fitting and tied at the backs. The pair no longer wore boots, but the emerald eyed demon still had her knife strapped in place. Her partner, whose hair and eyes shimmered like silver, carried several rough looking brushes and what appeared to be a large bar of soap of some sort. She offered the young man an almost gentle smile, but her eyes were as hard and wicked as the rest. Both had tied their hair back in lengthy braids that ran down their backs.

The green-eyed witch leered at him and pulled her blade once more, nodding to her silver haired companion. The latter of which smirked and moved out of sight, there was a clatter and groan as the chains attached to his limbs started to slid through the loops in the wall! Naturally, he tried to fight what was happening, but his fate was inevitable. Every sore muscle was strained and every ache renewed in tenfold...

His arms were stretched over his head and pulled off at angles, his legs held taunt in a wide stance. He was almost hanging from his wrists due to the tautness of the chains that held his arms aloft. His back strained and protested at this new stressed position. The youngster wasn't all that pleased with it himself, he was helpless once more...and to add to his dread, he was now facing the wall...away from the pair of she-elves and the blade.

The blade which he suddenly felt teasing his neck, he strained to turn his head away. Cursing them and growling foul things, this time they went ignored. The blade moved from his neck, moving down his back and then down each arm. At first he assumed it was to leave a trail of blood, but he didn't feel the sting of the blade. Only when he felt a cool breeze on his back did it dawn on him what the purpose of the odd pattern was..seconds later his shirt fell away and exposed his bare, firm, chest. He was still young, so he was still quite lean, but there was a fair bit of muscle to be seen. Developing pectorals and the beginnings of strong biceps that now strained at their exposure. A light trail of dark hair leading from his naval and disappearing down the front of his pants. The smoothly sculpted abs tensing as he inhaled sharply. The silver haired beauty moving under his arm, running her body against his as she stepped before him.

He flared his nostrils and lifted his head, his lips thinned in proud defiance. This seemed to make her smirk more as she placed a lithe hand onto his bare skin, tracing the lines of tense muscles. Each one flinching in turn as he strained to escape the unwelcome contact from his captor. A sheen of sweat clearly visible now, nervous sweat...he wasn't sure if he was mad anymore. A spike of uncertain terror seemed lodged in his spine. And something else he didn't want to think about. The young man closed his grey eyes to try and regain his former fury and replace the fear that was unwelcome to him. But his eyes snapped open as a gasp left his lips as the silver haired temptress dragged her nail around his hardened left nipple. Dragging her nail over it and digging it in in a cruelly arousing way.

Her actions distracted him from what the emerald eyed demon was doing with her knife and before he could protest, he felt his legging fall to the floor. Leaving him fully exposed in his helpless state. He panted hard, afraid, furious, and aroused. His legs were long and lean and muscular as the rest of his body. Lightly covered in dark curls that matched his hair perfectly. The silver haired she-elf only smiled, moving to his other nipple as if what she was doing to him was natural and nothing to cause concern. "It seems this man has never heard of 'clean shaven'..." The emerald eyed she-elf hissed in his ear as she traced the blade over his hipbone slowly. "That's good...it's been a while since I've shaved a man..."


	3. The Golden One

Hey all! Sorry that took so long! Exams are happening for me right now so I probably won't post anything until at least next month at the very latest. Maybe I can squeeze a small chapter in as a study break! But only if y'all review and tell me you absolutely need another chapter! :D

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The young man's breath hitched in his throat, terror and arousal had all but numbed his wits and frozen his body. For that much he was thankful, for the emerald eyed she-elf had the sharp edge of her blade against the base of his manhood, the rest was held in a firm, but careful, hand. He'd fought them when they washed his body with the sun warmed water, struggled in his chains as they lathered his body with the brushes with a meticulously arousing attention. Not one fraction of his body had missed their careful touch. His lengthy, dark, hair was scrubbed, his scalp graced with a massage that sent him reeling, and cursing. Nails were dragged too and fro, here and there, leaving him panting and speechless. Torture and pain were things he could easily understand...easily redirect, but the caress of elven fingers over his skin was proving to be more painful then any lash he'd ever felt. He was ashamed of his arousal, but unable to fight it. Moans and gasps escaped his lips with ease. He felt that anyone who had ever laid a lash to him in hopes of electing the exact same moans would be envious of how easy it turned out to be!

But the arousal of being washed had only lasted until the demon with emerald eyes began the task of shaving him. She took the greatest pleasure in the task while her silver haired companion continued to torment him, standing behind him and dragging her nails across his chest. Pressing her body to his back and digging her nails into his aching nipples. The young man whimpered, trying to fight and deny the pleasure, but one only had to look down a little to see his body betrayed him eagerly. He felt the blade glide over his legs, his arms, over his chest and down his stomach...it aroused him even more, and terrified him. He felt even more exposed then before.

A protest rose to his lips, but was chocked out by a guttural groan as the silver haired she-elf eased her nails from his nipples and massaged them rather roughly. At the same time, her emerald eyed friend grasped his length that bobbed against his tense stomach. Pulling it away from his body with the utmost care before laying her blade against it...this had made him go numb...had made him freeze. Fear and arousal mingling as he waited for her to cut him...to do him unrepairable harm. His eyes locked on hers and she smiled before bending over, blocking his view. He swallowed hard, seconds later he felt the blade slowly moving over the hard flesh with delicate ease. "Don't move...or I might slip." She teased wickedly, the pair laughing as if it were a great joke.

He didn't find it at all funny, breathing rapidly and straining to hold very still. But the silver haired she-elf trailed her hands down his sides to his hips, her right gently stroking the hipbone as he left snaked over his left buttocks. Cupping the stiff muscle with a giggle, her fingers slowly tracing the curve and then probing down the middle very slowly. The youngster nearly bucked, horrified and gasping. She didn't probe far, only enough to part his cheeks before she drew away with a laugh, "I think I like the green ones best...they're still so naive.." She hissed in his ear.

The emerald eyed witch sniggered and stood, releasing his now softening manhood, "You did well." Patting cheek in a manner that one might pat a dog. He wanted to retort, but he was numb to everything, just wanting to be let down from his stressed position. He was glad when they rinsed him down and eased the chains loose. Letting him sink to his knees to rest while they tended to things that needed to be prepared for him. His arms were still left hanging over his head, but at least he could rest his legs. His head hanging and his eyes closed, he couldn't begin to grasp what was happening.

The young Ranger was given little time to think on it as his "rest" was disrupted by the sounds of a struggle outside the stable. He turned as much as he could, once he realized the struggle was coming closer, to try and see what was happening. There was yelling in the odd elvish tongue and the sound of scuffling feet and clattering chains. Dirt was disturbed and sent drifting down the stable from the entrance. He could see shadows on the ground, too many to distinguish what was happening...a she-elf suddenly cried out as she hit the floor inside the entrance, her eyes showed rage and pain as she lunged back to her feet and into the fray. He heard the distinctive voice of the she-elf in the blue-green dress, the first she-elf, obviously she was the one in charge. And she was giving commands. He saw, in the shadows, a whip being raised and he heard the crack as it came down on flesh. But there was no cry of pain, merely a grunting as they continued to fight into the entrance of the stables, at last letting him see what was going on.

At least five, or perhaps six, she-elves struggled into the stables, in their midst was another elf. He was fair with lengthy blonde hair which whipped around his face as he struggled against the tugging and shoving hands of the she-elves. His eyes were a stark sky blue and they burned with untamed fury. There were leather bands on his wrists and ankles to which chains had been fixed, and were being used to drag him, a tight leather collar being roughly yanked every step. He wore tight dark leggings, but aside from them he was as bare as the young man. The youngster could see the red marks of the lash on the elf's back as he was dragged by. Following in the wake of the struggle was the she-elf in the blue-green dress. She paused to look the young man over with a lusty sneer before she cracked the whip down the hall...he heard it strike flesh once more.

The she-elf moved on and left him wondering what was going on...the sounds fading until he could hear nothing, the silence continuing until he heard the click of boots on the cobblestone floor. The group of she-elves passing as they exited, murmuring and laughing. They barely left the stable before he heard the bellow from, he presumed, the elf. He was out in the back somewhere and he was furious.

The young man shifted and pulled a bit at his chains, "Let me go!" Seeing the struggle had renewed his own desire for freedom, gaining his feet and cursing as he tried to find some weakness, some looseness to the shackles. His struggles didn't go unnoticed and his two tormentors returned in mere moments. He lashed out as the emerald eyed witch tried to come at him, catching her in the hip with his heel. She cursed, or he assumed it was a curse, as she staggered back. Her companion fetching a lengthy, stiff, pole with a noose over the end.

Though he didn't quite know what it was for he had a feeling it wasn't good, so he tried to evade it, but the noose snagged around his neck soon enough...shortly after that he was brought to his knees and struggling to breath through the constriction of his throat. He didn't really know what happened after that...his brain in a red haze...he thought he was about to pass out.

Perhaps he'd die...

The young man inhaled deeply as his airway was suddenly opened, coughing and sputtering.. He was back outside...back in the corral, his arms were being fixed to the post behind him with thick leather straps, holding him to the post at his wrists and elbows. His legs, now covered with a pair of leggings, splayed before him on the ground. The pair of she-elves finishing their work and leaving without so much as a backwards glance.

"You're a new face."

The young man jerked at the voice to his left, looking over at the owner. Pleasantly surprised to find it was the blonde elf who had inspired his foolish outburst. The fellow was bound quite differently and he could only assume it was to punish him, though the look in the elf's blue eyes screamed for vengeance, not to submit. A hefty looking wooden yoke was laid over his shoulders and bound at his neck with thick rope. His elbows were forced up along a groove along the back, strapped in place as well, while his arms were stretched so his wrists could also be strapped, more on the top and front, to the heavy yoke. He was forced to kneel there, several chains, attached to bolts he could only assume were deeply embedded into the ground, were attached to various points of the yoke to keep him pinned down.

"You're the fellow they brought in last night, are you not?" The elf questioned, since the young man had given no response to his first statement.

The youngster blinked and then nodded, "Yes."

"You haven't been here a day and you're already in trouble..." The elf chuckled, "I can see you and I are going to get along well." He paused to try and shift the yoke so it didn't dig into his neck do badly, "What did you do?"

"Kicked that emerald eyed cow..." He murmured.

The elf arched a brow, "You kicked Erdolliel?" He smiled and shook his head, "Yes I can see we are going to be _very_ good friends."

This made the young man smile faintly, shifting as he tried to ease the strain on his back from the painful position. "What exactly did you do?"

"It's forbidden for men to speak."

"You're speaking now..."

The blonde elf winked, "I told you we'd get along."

Again the young man smiled faintly, this elf he could certainly agree with...they would get along just fine. "I'm...Estel."

"Legolas. Welcome to Hell."


	4. As Horses

Hey y'all! Sorry for the long delay! Things are not really great for writing at the moment...due to finals, moving, and lacking a functional Internet connection, but I hope to make up for my two month dry spell shortly! Forgive me that this is short and really just kind of a plot filler! Sorry again! Love y'all!

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_Hell_, as Legolas so eloquently put it, was the Mirkwood palace. A grand place surrounded by trees and seemingly carved from stones. It was beautiful, like any elven city Aragorn had ever seen, but it was steeped in...darkness. Horrible darkness that screamed evil. Perhaps, thought the young Ranger, this was the cause of the strange goings on of this particular, formerly unknown, elven domain. Not that he was given much time to consider the causes. He and Legolas had remained in the corral for another day and night before the she-elves returned to fetch them. The young man was worried he might not see the blonde elf again once they were gathered, but it seemed their luck would hold...for now.

The she-elves had gathered in numbers, all looking very intently at the pair of bound men...some lusting, some seething...in particular the green eyed witch. She glared daggers at Aragorn, and also fondled her blade with a murderous intent as she stood among the pack. The group which parted to allow the leading woman through. He took in her high cheekbones and sultry stroll as she moved through the crowd, this time her dress was a stunning silvery green. She stopped and looked between the pair, Aragorn meeting her gaze with a stoic glare...Legolas tilting his chin in defiance as anger played across his bright blue eyes.

Erdolliel leaned over and murmured something to her in that odd language Aragorn still did not grasp fully and turned his eyes to Legolas. The blonde elf obliged a reply, regardless of the repercussions. "She wants to claim you for herself." The words, barely whispered, were punctuated by a harsh kick to his unprotected spine, driving the wind from his lungs with a _woomph!_ He would have doubled up if not for the chains. Even though he couldn't breath and was in clear pain, he smiled and wheezed, "You'll...have...to...do...better...then...that... " His comment rewarded him with a cruel blow to his groin, one which produced a painful high noise with every wheeze in.

The elf who had delivered the blow bending over to grip his long blonde hair and yank his head back, growling something in his ear. The clear threat only making Legolas smile smugly, his defiance clearly frustrating to all the women that stared at him. This particular she-elf didn't ease her hold while she looked over to Aragorn and uttered in the King's Tongue, "And I will make him watch." This succeeded in making Legolas' smile vanish, replaced with a cold expression of utter hatred. A hatred so tangible Aragorn could taste it in the air.

"How would that be any different then the last time, _Mistress_." The word hissed with such sarcastic loathing it earned the blonde elf another heavy-handed blow.

The strawberry-blonde she-elf shoved Legolas away, though he could not go far with the chains still in place, and made a motion to the gathered crowd. Four others moved in and blocked Aragorn's view of Legolas. Not that he could linger long on that thought, the leading she-elf approached him and gripped his long dark hair firmly. "Man." She hissed so softly that Aragorn wasn't sure she'd spoken at all. "You are handsome." Her grip easing just slightly, "And wanted by many." Her other hand slowly moving to trace his jawline. "Myself included." She smirked, "I will have you too, but I have no time to tame a man such as you...so I will leave you in the capable hands of our trainer." Her eyes drifting to the strawberry-blonde who Legolas had called 'Mistress'.

The young man tried not to shudder at the unpleasant look she gave him, drawn back to what was happening to Legolas. The scuffle had been minimal due to the restraints and the added muscle of the women moving to hold him, the end result was Legolas' silence...at least for the most part. They'd strapped what Aragorn could only think of as a bridle to the elf's head. The leather straps going around his head from top to bottom and back to front, tightened in place with several buckles. Between Legolas' teeth and under his tongue they'd wedged a flat metal bit. It bit into the sides of his mouth harshly and kept his tongue pressed to the roof of his mouth. The best he could do was make choked gargles of words that sounded like he'd suffered some sort of illness. But his eyes flashed with rage, his nostrils flaring. It was meant to humiliate and punish...but it only served to stoke his anger further.

Aragorn looked back to the woman who was in charge, trying to remain calm and unfazed. But he was utterly unprepared to deal with anything like this. She just smirked and turned away, making a vague hand motion. The four that had restrained Legolas moved in on him, grabbing him and holding hims surprisingly firm. He struggled, distressed that she-elves could be so utterly dominating...physically and mentally. Their hands fisted in his hair as he cursed and tried to escape. But it was futile. They forced his jaws open to slide the cold metallic bit between his teeth and under his tongue. It surprised him just how effectively it pressed his tongue against the roof of his mouth...how effectively it silenced his cursing. The straps digging into the corners of his mouths as they were tightened behind his head. He knew he'd be sore soon. They didn't ease their hold as they freed his arms, increasing it in fact while something was retrieved and threaded around his body. He felt the press of leather and heard the rattle of buckles It was a harness...dread consumed him at this realization. He strained, but the hands increased their hold. Thick leather straps tightened over his shoulders and around his hips, connecting to rings between his shoulder blades and his nipples. Another wide strap of leather passed around his neck and cinched tight.

A collar.

The young Ranger cursed, or tried. Trying desperately to turn or fight as leather bands were tied on his wrists, then they were attached behind his back to the strap that ran from the ring to the strap on his hips. His wrists were fixed in place at his back before he was forced up to his feet.

He stood there, fuming and glaring at the _mistress. _

She just smirked wickedly and motioned, speaking once more in the language he didn't know. He, and Legolas, were pulled out of the corral in mere moments and forced along the streets. Legolas still carrying the heavy yolk and Aragorn harnessed. They were dragged through the stables, which were disturbingly empty, and into the city. Aragorn was startled and utterly disturbed at what he saw.

The city was beautiful..as any elven city was. But the streets were full of men, chained to vendor stalls, forced to kneel, caged, pulling carts, gagged, bound...he was horrified. Men crawled. Men knelt. Men wept. As he was dragged through the streets he saw several men harnessed to a fancy carriage...like horses.

Legolas bumped him gently, as if to reassure him. It helped a little.

Aragorn wasn't sure he was going to be able to get himself out of this one this time...

* * *

Just as a PS, if there is something spelled incorrectly or my grammar is wrong, I likely didn't find it before, but have now, however I don't tend to resubmit chapters just to correct small mistakes. Please understand I write for the fun of it, thanks.


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